Hareton and Catherine: a love story
by fiendfall
Summary: Hareton and Catherine never really get their say in the book of Wuthering Heights or any of the movie versions. So here it is, folks, the extended version of the romance between Hareton and Catherine! *CURRENTLY ON HIATUS*
1. Chapter 1

**Wuthering Heights**

This is a fanfic of the **2009 movie** of Wuthering Heights

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or storyline, and lots of the speech is a direct quote from the 2009 movie and/or the book

Pairing: Catherine/Hareton

Rating: K+

N/B: In particular, if someone could tell me whether I've got Hareton's voice right and how I could improve on his chapters, that would be great. Thanks, folks =]

* * *

><p><em>Catherine<em>

It was a dark, dreary, grey afternoon – but even had the sun been shining, Catherine Linton would still have felt miserable. The simple reason was that her cousin, a boy only six months younger than herself who might have been a true friend to her, was at this very moment being removed from her house, and it seemed very likely that she might never see him again.

She watched from the window as, down below, her father helped her cousin, Linton, into the carriage that had been hastily prepared. Only this morning had her father returned with Linton after the death of Linton's mother Isabella, and now already they were leaving again. Her father had said it was something to do with Linton's father, a man she hadn't even known existed and certainly knew nothing of him, and a man she detested at this moment for coming between herself and her cousin.

Linton looked so small, all the way down there, his pale face framed with long, light hair, and a blanket pulled tightly around his thin shoulders. She had long dreamed of finally meeting her cousin, and had been slightly shocked to find him in such a state of frailty and illness, but even after only knowing him a moment she had already developed a strong affection for the boy.

As the carriage pulled away, Catherine's companion Nelly turned to her, offering words of comfort.

'He's gone, Nelly,' Catherine replied sadly. 'My cousin has gone.'

Already the house felt emptier without him. She walked slowly to a chair and sat, imagining the long, bumpy journey that awaited her father and cousin – and they were already so tired from their earlier travelling! Catherine had wished to accompany them to Linton's new home, but her father forbade it on the grounds that it would be a long and arduous journey, and there was nothing to be gained in her joining them. Linton had seemed as reluctant to leave Catherine as she was to let him go, but even he had admitted that, if it was to be a long journey, he had better rest than speak to anyone, and Catherine's presence might indeed be a hindrance rather than a help.

And so she had let them go alone, and now here she was, already impatient for her father's return, and wishing he would have Linton with him.

'Why did Papa have to take Linton away?' she asked Nelly quietly.

'Come now, chick,' Nelly replied. 'Why don't you read something to me?'

~{}~

_Hareton_

Four miles away, the inhabitants of the forbidding house of Wuthering Heights moved as if treading on eggshells. As it got later and later, Heathcliff's temper had taken a turn for the worse, and Hareton knew from years of hard experience that at times like these, it was best to avoid Heathcliff.

'Damn that Linton, where is he? If they do not come soon, I shall have to ride out to them. Hareton! Get the horses, and tell Joseph to ready the carriage. Quickly, boy!'

Hareton hurried from the room and into the kitchen, where Joseph sat by the fire, smoking.

'Mister Heathcliff wants you to ready t' carriage,' Hareton said.

'Aye,' nodded Joseph, but before he could so much as get up from his seat there came the sound of horses hooves on the cobbled courtyard outside. Immediately the two men turned and left the kitchen to follow their master from the house.

'Ah, you've brought _it_, have you?' mocked Heathcliff when the carriage came to a stop and a man Hareton supposed must be Mr Linton climbed out. 'I feared I'd have to come down and fetch my property myself.'

'One footstep on my land, and you know what would happen to you,' warned Mr Linton, and Hareton nearly cringed. To provoke Heathcliff, with him in such a mood! It was nothing short of suicide. But, to his surprise, Heathcliff seemed to let the insult pass after only a glare in Mr Linton's direction.

'Well, let's see what we can make of it.' Heathcliff leaned into the carriage to inspect whoever was in there. Hareton only caught a glimpse of a pale face before Heathcliff's head came between them. 'Oh God, what a beauty!' exclaimed Heathcliff. 'But damn my soul, it's worse than I expected – and the Devil knows I wasn't very hopeful.'

Joseph guffawed.

'Looks worse than you,' Heathcliff observed to Mr Linton, and Hareton realised that Mr Linton indeed looked frail and ill, with grey in his hair and lines on his face. He could be no older than Heathcliff, and yet Mr Linton seemed ten or fifteen years Heathcliff's senior.

'Do you know me?' Heathcliff continued, to the occupant of the carriage.

'No,' came a thin, high voice from inside. Heathcliff's son wouldn't last long at Wuthering Heights, Hareton was sure of that now.

'Well, your mother was a wicked slut to keep you in ignorance of the father you ought love,' Heathcliff said gruffly, leaning into the carriage and slinging his son over his shoulder.

'How dare you!' exclaimed Mr Linton violently. 'I shall carry him.'

'Give over! You have hardly the strength to carry yourself.'

Mr Linton, apparently seeing the truth of Heathcliff's words, wisely held his tongue, but he couldn't stop the look of apprehension and worry that clouded his face as Heathcliff roughly put his son on the ground between Hareton and Joseph, motioning for them to take him in. It seemed as though Linton might suddenly fall to the ground from fatigue and illness, so Hareton quickly moved to his side to support him and between them, he and Joseph half carried, half dragged the boy into the hall of Wuthering Heights.

'Don't leave me!' shouted Linton pathetically as they took him. 'I can't stay here – I can't stay here! Don't leave me, Uncle Edgar!'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Catherine_

It had been several hours since her father had left, the light growing less and less until it was almost pitch black outside, and still Catherine insisted that she wait for her father's return before retiring to bed.

'I shall not go, Nelly, so there is no point in asking me,' she said firmly when Nelly tried yet again to persuade her to go to bed.

'But the time, Miss Catherine! Your papa could be some hours yet. He would be worried if he knew you were still up at this hour, my love.'

'Even so, I won't be able to sleep until I see him. Please, Nelly.'

Nelly sighed but nodded. 'Very well. Just this once.'

It was indeed an hour before Catherine saw the lights of the carriage come into view on the long drive through the Grange park, but the moment they came into view, her tiredness evaporated, and the fairly ran down the stairs to meet her father.

'What, still up at this time, Catherine?' he said, embracing her. 'I should have thought Nelly would have more sense than to let you wait for me.'

'She did, but I insisted,' Catherine explained. Her father smiled tightly at this, but Catherine failed to notice the forced air of merriness he had. 'Did Linton's father receive him well?' she asked immediately.

'Allow your papa to take off his coat and hat, child,' scolded Nelly. 'He's had a hard journey today so don't go wearing him out even more.'

'Well, I don't see why he needed to do _all_ his travelling today,' Catherine said ungraciously. 'You could have let Linton stay the night, and gone on to his father's tomorrow.'

'You know that would not have been possible, Catherine,' her father said, walking into the parlour and removing his hat and gloves.

'Why could he not stay just one night? Just long enough for me to get to know him better.'

'Because I do not think that is what his father would wish for him, Catherine.'

Catherine paused as her father unwound his scarf from around his neck, before saying: 'Is he far away?'

'Exceeding far.'

'Your father travelled all night,' Nelly reminded her.

Mr Linton turned and walked into his study, Catherine trailing after him.

'When Linton's mother died,' her father began, 'I wanted nothing more than to have him here with us, but that is simply not possible. We will have to remain as we have always been, just you and me, the two of us – and Nelly here.'

Catherine clenched her jaw at her father's betrayal. Was it so much to ask, just for her to get to know her cousin a little better? She knew hardly anyone – her father was always telling her she shouldn't be going out on the moors, or even to Gimmerton – it was sometimes almost as if he were frightened of something. 'All I wanted was a friend,' she said forcefully, 'but you took him away, and you will not tell me why! So it is not like it always was – it never can be like that any more!'

~{}~

_Hareton_

Heathcliff's son had only been there a month, but he was certainly making his presence known. Never had Hareton known a boy so ill, or so complaining of his discomfort! True, Heathcliff certainly wasn't gentle towards him, but that wasn't Heathcliff's way – surely Linton could see that?

To begin with, everything had been better. Heathcliff had treated Linton carefully – or as carefully as it was within his nature to allow – and Linton had seemed relatively strong, at least compared to now. Within a few weeks, everything had taken a turn for the worse. Almost simultaneously, Linton had grown worse, and Heathcliff had tired of playing the caring father. Or semi-caring father. And now that Linton was ill, he required tending to, and that naturally fell to Hareton and Joseph, who had enough duties without adding playing nursemaid to their master's son to them as well.

Hareton didn't attempt to hide his dislike and contempt for Linton. The boy – with his soft accent and pampered ways – knew nothing of the life Hareton was accustomed to. He could not be further from the rough ways of Wuthering Heights. And yet somehow, he was the son to Heathcliff, the closest thing to a father Hareton had ever known. And now Linton was here, Hareton was second-best, thrown out by this cuckoo in the nest.

'Hareton!'

Again there came the pitiful, wailing cry from the hall, and Hareton was obliged to leave his work in the kitchen and go see to the owner of the voice.

'What dust tha' want?' he grumbled.

'Get me some water, I'm dying of thirst!'

Resignedly, Hareton turned back to the kitchen, but before he reached there, Heathcliff appeared. Hareton paused, as if to speak to Heathcliff, but he received such a quelling glare from him that he turned immediately into the kitchen, burning with shame and humiliation and hatred of Linton. Things hadn't been good, exactly, before Linton came, but they had certainly been better.

'Well, Son, how do you fare today?' he heard Heathcliff say mockingly behind him. His only consolation was the fact that Heathcliff seemed to dislike Linton nearly as much as Hareton himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Catherine_

'There, that's not too tight is it?'

In response to Nelly's question, Catherine just laughed. 'Come on, Nelly!'

It was the 20th March, and anniversary of two important dates – the birth of Catherine, and the death of her mother, also Catherine. A few years ago, in an effort to cheer Catherine up, Nelly had invented the game of blindfolding her before giving her her birthday present, and it had become something of a tradition.

Nelly turned Catherine around enough times for her to completely lose all sense of direction, blindfolded as she was, and then Catherine felt something thrust into her hands. It was small and rectangular – a book. Hastily, she pulled off her blindfold and the small blue ribbon covering the book to see the title: 'W. SCOTT'S IVANHOE'.

'Oh, Nelly, thank you!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Nelly and embracing her fiercely.

'It was Cathy's,' Nelly said quietly. 'Your mother's.'

Catherine stepped back, suddenly subdued.

'I kept it these eighteen years,' Nelly smiled.

Suddenly, the day had lost its shine, and Catherine felt a desire to shut herself away and not come out until this unfortunate day was over. 'My father is up at the church, I suppose,' she said quietly. He never spent her birthday with her – always by the grave of her mother. 'Why does his sadness at Mother's death always weigh on his happiness that I was born?'

'Now now, chick,' Nelly said softly. 'What shall we do to cheer you up?'

A thought occurred to Catherine – something her father had said. 'I know where I wish to go – where a colony of moor game has settled.'

Nelly seemed uncertain. 'That must be a good distance off. I'm not so sure…'

'Please Nelly!' begged Catherine, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 'You did ask me. And it is my birthday!'

The smile seemed infectious. 'Alright,' Nelly agreed. 'But we must be back within the hour.'

It was a perfect day, with warm sunlight and a fresh wind. Catherine was in her element up on the moors she so loved. From up here, it felt as though she could see the world!

'Where are they, Miss Catherine?' called Nelly from behind her. 'We must go back!'

Surely not already? They had only been walking for a few moments – half an hour at the most. 'A little further, only a little further, Ellen!' Catherine called back to her nurse, removing her shoes and socks as they constricted her movement too much. And she felt so free up here it would be a shame to mar it in any way.

They turned a bend and the path disappeared up ahead under a pile of stones which made a very convenient staircase up to the moors above. Without a moment's thought, Catherine began to make her way up. Her progress was quicker now, without the shoes – removing them had been a good idea, she should've thought of it earlier.

'Miss Catherine!' Nelly called out behind her, but Catherine was hardly going to stop now, not when she was so close, not when she felt so free and wonderful! It was almost as though she could fly, just jump onto the wind and speed away from everything – from Nelly who scolded too much, from her father who preferred the company of his dead wife to his own daughter on her own birthday, from Linton, from whom there had been no word these past months.

'What are you doing, girl?'

Catherine blinked in surprise and looked up, squinting in the sunlight. A man sat on a large black horse, not three feet away from her. She must have been very lost in her thoughts not to notice him before.

'I was searching for grouse eggs,' she explained.

'On my land?' the man said gruffly. 'That would be poaching.'

'Papa said there were quantities on the moor, and I would never have taken any – I just wished to see them.'

The man nodded. 'And 'papa' is Mr Linton of Thrushcross Grange, is he not?'

'And who are you?'

The man spoke in a low voice. 'You don't know me?'

Catherine nearly laughed. She felt so joyous up here. 'Of course I don't!'

'Yet I know you… Catherine.'

'You may know my name, but you don't know me.'

'I know enough to know that today is your birthday.'

Catherine said nothing. Even this stranger seemed to care more about her birthday than her father did.

'I was acquainted with your mother,' continued the man. 'I know that today is the anniversary of her death.'

Even though she had anticipated its coming since the mention of her mother, Catherine couldn't hide the acute disappointment she felt from seeping into her voice. 'Oh. I see… And you saw me, and recognised my mother in me…' it certainly made sense.

'No.' He was surprisingly abrupt. 'There is nothing of your mother in you.'

Catherine had never heard this before. 'Well, how, then?

The strange man paused, looking out over the horizon. 'Come and meet my son,' he said suddenly. Catherine blinked, taken aback at such a strange request. 'You know him already,' continued the man, intriguing her even further.

'Know him?' she wondered, nearly laughing with a light-hearted feeling at the absurdity of such an assertion. 'How could I?'

'Come to my house and see, child,' the man said with a smile.

Catherine felt her former joyfulness returning. 'I will come,' she decided merrily. 'But I think you are mistaken.'

The man leaned down and helped her onto the back of his horse before reigning its head around and spurring it into a gallop. The feeling of the wind in her hair was so liberating, it felt as if she really were flying, after all. Catherine had a sudden desire to laugh, and she did so, the wind buffeting away all her former cares and worries.

The man said very little on the journey – only when she asked his name did he reply with a gruff 'Heathcliff'. The name meant nothing to Catherine, but it certainly did seem to have something familiar about it, as if she had heard it before somewhere. Presently, a large, grey house came into view.

'Is that where we are headed?' asked Catherine.

'Aye,' agreed Mr Heathcliff. 'Wuthering Heights is the name.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Catherine_

A moment later, they rode through the high stone walls and into a courtyard surrounded by buildings and walls. A large tree stood in one corner, some of its branches nearly brushing the windows they were so close. A large door stood centrally in the main building, with an inscription above it so worn by age that Catherine found it difficult to read.

When the horse came to a standstill, Catherine slid off its back and followed Mr Heathcliff through the doorway and into a large hall. It was warm inside due to a fire which burned in the fireplace in the wall opposite. Two seats sat by the fire, one of which was occupied, but the figure was turned away so Catherine couldn't make out their face.

'Now!' said Mr Heathcliff heartily. 'Who is that?'

The figure in the chair looked around, and to Catherine's amazement, she recognised-

'Linton? Is that you?' She ran to him, astonishment in every line of her face. 'This is your son?' Impulsively, she embraced her cousin.

'Catherine!' said Linton – for it was he – and she pulled away to look at him properly. 'I prayed so to see you before I died.'

But Catherine's mind was elsewhere. All this time, and no word from Linton… 'You were so close these past months! Why did you never come and see me?'

'Best ask your father that.'

Catherine turned to Mr Heathcliff, whose presence she had almost forgotten in the excitement of the reunion with her cousin.

'My father? He told me that Linton was living many miles away…' Then suddenly, she had a thought, and turned joyfully to Mr Heathcliff. 'So you must be my uncle, then!' And she embraced him as she had Linton.

'If you have and kisses, child,' Mr Heathcliff said somewhat awkwardly, 'give them to Linton.'

Catherine obeyed and kissed her cousin tenderly on the cheek. To see him again, just as she had wished – and on her birthday! It was the best gift she could ever had wished for, and certainly better than anything her father could say or do after being at her mother's grave all day.

Suddenly, the door banged open and Nelly appeared, her arms full with Catherine's shoes and socks. It seemed like an age ago that she had cast them off, and she became suddenly aware of the cold stone floor beneath her bare feet.

'We should go, young lady,' scolded Nelly, hurrying over to Catherine and taking her by the arm. 'You should not have come here.' Her fingers were like vices digging into Catherine's arm, and she shook her off, angry.

'Why? Because I should discover that my cousin should be so close?'

Mr Heathcliff smiled. 'Make yourself at home, Nelly. Your old chair sits there for you.'

Today certainly was a day for revelations. 'You lived here too?'

'She did indeed,' replied Mr Heathcliff as Nelly floundered. 'And she raised your mother here.'

_My mother?_ 'Is this true?'

'And she raised me, also, although I don't know if Nelly looks at me with pride for the job she did.'

There was a pause as Catherine looked from Heathcliff to Nelly and back again, until Heathcliff spoke to Linton:

'Now, Son – have you nothing you can go and show your cousin?'

Linton looked uncomfortable and nervous, so his father continued: 'Take her to the stables to see the horses.'

Linton looked almost pleadingly at Catherine. 'Wouldn't you rather sit here?'

His discomfort was wasted on Catherine, who had an unfortunate tendency to think only of herself in times like these. 'I love being out of doors, don't you?'

At this, Linton looked even more miserable, and Catherine as just thinking that perhaps she had said the wrong thing, when Mr Heathcliff turned and called into the shadows in one of the corners.

'Hareton! Come here.'

Catherine looked up to see a young servant she hadn't noticed before sidle over from the corner and stand by Mr Heathcliff. He was about her height with dark hair and rough clothes, and he looked as if he'd just come in from working outside.

'You shall have to settle for Hareton here,' Mr Heathcliff continued. 'Isn't he a handsome lad?'

Catherine suddenly became acutely aware that the servant was looking at her, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

'Go with her around the farm, and behave like a gentleman, mind – and don't stare.'

Hareton blinked suddenly and ducked his head in assent, turning to leave the room. Glad that he was no longer looking at her so intensely, Catherine stood and retrieved her shoes and socks from Nelly, who was still carrying them, before turning to leave after her guide.

The sun was shining, warming the courtyard as it was sheltered from the wind by the walls. Just outside the door, Catherine paused to put her shoes and socks back on, hoping that Hareton might point out something of interest, or at least speak to her while she did so. Maybe just introduce himself? But he did nothing of the sort, not even when she straightened up. He glanced away quickly when she looked at him, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he had been watching her again. It made her horribly uncomfortable to be alone with someone who stared at her.

Casting around desperately for some subject of conversation that might make her uncommunicative companion speak, her eye alighted for the second time on the inscription above the door.

'The inscription,' she said, pointing. 'What does it say?'

Hareton shrugged, but spoke. 'It's some damnable writing, but-' he blushed, 'I cannot read it.'

Catherine was surprised, and in an attempt to keep the conversation going, she said: 'Perhaps I could help you to read – if your master would allow it.'

She had spoken as kindly as she could, sensing it was probably a sore point for Hareton, but she still seemed to have caused offence, because Hareton scowled at her.

'My master?' he said. 'My master? Damn you! I'll see thee damned before tha' calls me servant!' And he turned abruptly on his heel, storming back into the house.

'I'm sorry if I gave offence!' Catherine called after him, bewildered.

'He's not a servant,' said Linton, appearing at her side. She looked at him, confused. Of course he was a servant – he dressed like one, spoke like one, acted like one…

'He's your cousin too.'

'My cousin? But…'

'Your mother's brother, Hindley Earnshaw, is Hareton's father.'

'Then why does he behave like a servant if he isn't one?'

'Hindley died a long time ago. I don't understand it myself, but my father bought Wuthering Heights from Hindley, and now treats Hareton like a servant, even though he isn't one…'

'But why? Mister Heathcliff doesn't seem… He doesn't… Why does Hareton stand for it?'

'I think because he has come to expect it.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Hareton_

How dare she? How _dare_ she!

Coming in here, with no knowledge of anything, with her high-and-mighty ways and her presumptions – taking him for a servant! When he was the last of the Earnshaw line!

At first, he had been intrigued by her, that he had to admit. She was young, she was beautiful, she was carefree and joyous, she had seen nothing of misery or pain, she was as yet untainted by feelings like bitterness and anger. He had never thought anything of such beauty and perfection existed anywhere in the world – and then she had walked into his house, and everything had changed.

And then she had taken him for a servant, wounded his pride, and he had thrown her away. Snubbed her attempts at kindness.

He could have kicked himself.

'Hareton.'

He turned quickly from his position in front of the fire in the kitchen, staring into the flames, lost in his thoughts. The woman – Nelly – stood in the doorway, looking at him with sad eyes. When she did not speak again, he turned away. What did she want?

'Do you not recognise me, Hareton?'

His voice scratched his throat. 'Aye.'

She let out a little breath, as if she had been holding it. 'Well, then. You have grown much since last I saw you.'

He turned to her suddenly. 'You did not come to talk to me about my height, Nelly,' he said savagely. 'What is it that you want?'

She seemed disappointed. 'I wanted to speak to you. To see that you are all right. You were barely a child when I left you last.' She paused, obviously waiting for some reply, but Hareton remained stubbornly silent. 'Are you happy here, Hareton?' she asked quietly, after a moment.

It was so unexpected a question that Hareton laughed. 'Happy?' he spat. 'What has happy got to do with anything?'

~{}~

_Catherine_

'I am very disappointed in you, Catherine.'

It was that evening, and Catherine's father had wasted no time in his scolding of her.

'From now on, you are to avoid his house, and his family.'

She clenched her jaw at the injustice of it. 'I know this is because you dislike Mister Heathcliff,' she said vehemently.

'No – it is because he dislikes me, and he is a most diabolical man, delighting to wrong and ruin those he hates if they give him the slightest opportunity.'

Oh, but he was wrong – he was so wrong! 'But Mister Heathcliff was quite cordial, _Father_,' she said angrily. 'And he didn't object to our seeing each other.'

'He detests you on my account, I am certain of that. You- you will listen to me, and you will obey me-'

But Catherine had had enough. She stood quite suddenly and turned, storming from the room, ignoring her father's calls after her. As she reached the door, he broke down coughing violently, and she nearly went to him – but she hardened her resolve and continued with her angry exit.

For three days, Mr Linton made sure that Catherine had no opportunity to leave the house, and if ever she did, it was accompanied by Nelly, and they were not to be out for longer than an hour or leave the Grange's park.

Catherine seethed with the injustice and betrayal of her father. Linton was ill, he was her cousin, and he needed her by his side – couldn't her father see that? But no, all he cared about was Mr Heathcliff, who, it seemed to Catherine, had committed no crime other than marrying her aunt, and because Catherine was of a romantic tendency, this only made her like Mr Heathcliff the better and rail against her father's judgment the more.

It was on the fourth day that her father gave her the first opportunity to leave the house. He was feeling particularly ill, and so required Nelly's help and care, which left Catherine mercifully free to amuse herself as she pleased. She told her father that she would spend the day reading, and maybe take a stroll in the park after lunch, but she would certainly be no longer than half an hour.

Lunch came and went, and Nelly brought up Mr Linton's food to him so he could eat in the comfort of his rooms, and so, as a consequence, it wasn't until dinner that they realized that Catherine was missing. And by then, it was far too late.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Catherine_

It had been all too easy to escape, really. And now, up here on the moors with her dear cousin, she was free as a bird. She had brought her basket this time so she could pick flowers and dry them back at home, as a memory of the moors she could take out whenever she wanted.

'Catherine! Please, Catherine, can we go back?'

'What, already?' she asked, turning to look at her cousin. But her complaints died in her throat when she saw him – he was even paler than usual, with dark smudges under his eyes and shaking hands drawing his blanket ever closer around his shoulders. Suddenly she felt guilty.

'Of course,' she said tenderly, taking his arm and helping to support him. 'You should have told me you felt ill,' she scolded softly. 'I would never have insisted we walk so far otherwise.'

She was incredibly fond of Linton already, feeling an almost maternal desire to care for a creature more fragile than herself. He was sweet and kind and seemed to dote on her in return, and so it was mortifying to think that she had allowed her selfishness to cloud her judgment on walking out on the moors with him.

It took them half an hour to return to Wuthering Heights. It could have taken half that time, had not Linton been so slow. At times Catherine almost lost her patience with him, and she kept having to remind herself that he was her dear cousin who was very ill and needed a lot of care, that she was in a position of responsibility towards him and this meant that she could not put her own wishes before his needs. It was difficult.

Eventually, they reached the house, and Catherine was able to let go of Linton's arm, pull off her shawl and put her basket full of flowers on the floor.

'Thank you, darling Catherine,' said Linton, a note of urgency in his voice. 'And now you must go.'

But Catherine had other plans. She had never seen inside Wuthering Heights properly before – and Mr Heathcliff had said that this was where her mother grew up… Impetuously, she turned and ran up the stairs to the gallery above, ignoring Linton's pleas for her to stop. The boy had no sense of adventure or fun! And anyway, she wasn't about to be dissuaded from her purpose – it wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong.

'Let me guess which is your room,' she said merrily, leaning over the gallery railing to look at her cousin below.

'Catherine, will you please desist in this!' called Linton after her as she ran down the corridor in her search of fun.

She ignored the first few doors because the corridor continued, and so it was only when she came to a dead-end that she turned and entered the room to her left. It was a bedroom, medium sized and rectangular, with a four-poster bed pushed up close against the windows in the opposite walls. She walked up to the bed and looked out of the window, through the branches of the tree outside and down into the courtyard. Hareton was there, returning home with a gun and three dead pheasants. How just like him!

She turned away, disgusted, and noticed the headboard of the bed. It was covered with carvings – words and little drawings, motifs, lines that snaked this way and that. And the writing; one name, over and over: CATHY EARNSHAW… CATHY EARNSHAW… And there – CATHY HEATHCLIFF. And then, CATHY LINTON. Cathy… That was what everyone called her mother…

Over the fireplace was a small framed drawing of a woman, and it was this that caught Catherine's eye now. It was sketchy and only moderately skilful, but still the woman was so beautiful and gazed out of the picture with such intensity and spirit, that Catherine knew instantly who it was. She reached out to touch the picture of her mother, but-

'Stop.'

She turned quickly to see Linton, even paler than before, breathing heavily and leaning against the door jam.

'My father will strike anyone who as much as touches it.'

'This is my mother, isn't it?'

Linton's voice, when it came, was so quiet she almost didn't hear it. 'Yes.'

'This is my mother's room.'

'Yes.'

Catherine looked about it once more. Her mother… The woman she had never known, the woman who had given her life so Catherine could be born… Then a thought occurred. 'Why would Mister Heathcliff keep a portrait of my mother?'

Linton looked uncomfortable.

'Why? Why would he do that?'

'Because he loved her. Because he loved her before your father did.' Linton paused, before adding the killing blow _sotto voce_: 'And she loved him.'

Catherine could only stare. 'What? Why do you say such things?' Her mother had only ever loved Catherine's father, surely!

'My father says it is true,' Linton assured her.

No… It couldn't be! It simply wasn't possible. 'You liar!' How could he say this was a truth? 'You liar!' She couldn't bare to be in his company a moment longer – suddenly, she had to leave, she had to get out now, she had to get away and think, assure herself that Linton was lying, or mistaken, or confused. She rushed past him, along the corridor and back down the stairs into the hall, picking up her shawl as she went and running to the door. She turned the handle and pulled – but it wouldn't budge.

'It's locked,' she said, coming back into the hall. Linton reached the bottom stair as she did so and stood, leaning heavily against the back of a chair.

'Where does your father keep the key?' Catherine demanded.

But Linton ignored her. 'I am eighteen years old,' he began, 'and I am _dying_!'

Catherine had no patience with him. 'For pity's sake, Linton.'

'And that is why Father wants us to be married as soon as we can.'

'What?' It was such an absurd thing to say, so completely unexpected, so ridiculous and unbelievable and…

'He made me change my will and bequeath everything to him. He wants us to be married. He wanted me to lure you here, and I tried not to act the traitor, but you would not leave! You would not leave.'

Horror filled Catherine's eyes as she realised that Linton was speaking the truth. She backed away and then turned, running into the kitchen and to the door.

'All the doors have been locked, Catherine,' Linton said behind her.

She pulled with all her might, but it was true.

'Help!' she shouted, hammering with her fists on the door. 'Help!' Of course it was no use – who would hear? Mr Heathcliff himself? Hareton might hear, but he certainly wouldn't lift a finger in her aid. And Nelly wouldn't discover her absence till much later…

'If you want to see your father before he dies,' said Linton, who had followed her into the kitchen, 'then you must obey Heathcliff – you must!'

Catherine lost all reason then. Everything turned red and she launched herself at Linton, shouting and spitting and slapping his face and shaking him like a doll. Linton was so surprised – and so weak – that he fell to the ground, helpless, completely unable to do anything to defend himself. Catherine was nearly crying. How could this have happened? It was like a nightmare! This could not be real, it couldn't be true! She would not let it happen!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Hareton_

He had heard her calling for help. And he knew that she had reached the door that, not half an hour ago, he himself had locked. It hadn't been difficult at the time, hadn't felt like a betrayal.

It did now.

'If you want to see your father before he dies,' Linton was saying, 'then you must obey Heathcliff – you must!'

How would such a delicate and sweet creature survive at Wuthering Heights? How could Catherine possibly live here, among them, always in fear of Heathcliff?

Now, standing in the hall, listening to the fight inside, listening to Catherine's shouts of anger and pain and fear, Hareton wanted to turn away from the shame of it, wanted to run away and hide.

And then Heathcliff himself appeared and made for the kitchen.

'Don't!' began Hareton, and then stopped, frightened at the sound of his own voice.

'What?' asked Heathcliff, dangerously low.

'Just… Don't be too… hard on her.' Hareton faltered. 'She'll come round, I know she will.'

'You do, do you? And I suppose you're an expert on these matters?' Heathcliff snorted and continued into the kitchen.

Hareton looked at the ground, cursing himself. Why did he have to speak out? It was stupid, damn stupidity, nothing more. All he had succeeded in doing was irritating Heathcliff, and that was not good news for anybody.

'Well, I take it from this touching scene that you have made your offer of marriage, and young Miss Linton is expressing some misgivings,' came Heathcliff's voice from the kitchen.

'Give me that key,' said Catherine forcefully. 'I would not marry him if you keep me here for ever!'

'By this time tomorrow,' said Heathcliff ominously, 'I _will_ be your father, so you had better get used to appeasing me.'

~{}~

_Catherine_

She had been shut in her mother's bedroom. A small mercy. It felt comforting to be so close to her mother, on the eve of her wedding day.

She had planned her wedding so many times in her mind, going over who would be present and what she would wear. And now it seemed as though she would have no say in anything. Not even the bridegroom. She was to marry Linton, and that was the end of it.

Suddenly the door opened and Nelly appeared. Catherine ran to her and they embraced.

'Nelly! I've been so foolish.' She pulled away, urgently. 'My father-'

'He is gravely ill, my love,' Nelly said sadly. 'He may not last the light.'

She bit her lip, struggling to keep tears from falling. 'Please take me home.'

Nelly turned to Hareton, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway. 'Please,' she said. 'Let her go – just to see her father. I know you, Hareton, I knew you when you were a boy – I know you're not like Heathcliff.'

Hareton turned from her. 'Don't speak to me.'

'Oh, Nelly! Is he… Did he… Has he asked for me?'

'No, my sweet. He is sleeping. He does not even know that you have gone. But you should not have come here-'

'I know that, I see that now! Oh, I was so stupid! I was selfish and unthinking, and – oh! – if only I hadn't left Papa!'

~{}~

_Hareton_

Out in the corridor, Hareton turned from the scene, closing the door slowly and locking it behind him. Some small part of him wished he could free the two inmates, but… It would not be possible.

There was a chair positioned in the corridor on which he now sat. Heathcliff had charged him with 'guard duties', as he put it. It was a black business, indeed, and Hareton would be glad when it was all over. It made him feel dirty.

'Hareton!'

It was Nelly again. Couldn't she leave him alone? She seemed to think that because she was once his sole protector and guardian – that because she raised him when he was small – she had some kind of a hold over him – that she somehow _knew_ him, better than he knew himself.

'I know this scheme is not of your devising! I know there is good in you!'

Couldn't she just be quiet? Couldn't she see that he had no choice? Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could possibly let them out. Heathcliff would quite literally kill him.


End file.
